It is at the beginning of the twilight hour that he emerges once more from the darkness of the forest trees that ring the fields he has come to reside within. His own scent is thick and layered here, luring him again and again each evening. It is They he returns too, his possessions, often with bloodied feasts between his blackened jaws to be shared between them and the small ones Tick Tock guards, the children whom carry his scent, his blood and yet agitate him all at once. Instinct demands he tolerate them, refuses to allow him to bring them harm and yet the demons of his mind claw and hiss and whisper wicked things to his mind until he is driven to frustration and sent from her. He hunts still within the open lands, dragging carcasses to his den within the fields or into his den within the valley to be stored for later, to rot and season within the earth until his hunger should strike once more- for it always does. Hunger is a relentless thing, a maddening thing that lances at his mind and drives him onward each night until the bond of imprint tears at his soul and the scent of mate lures his ebony form back each night.

The night is yet to fully emerge however, the nightmarish creature alone atop those rolling plains as he prepares to venture into the open space of the night and the embrace of his own silent kingdom. For now he merely waits, form of utter perfection and beautiful blackness a mere shadow atop the fields as he stands, eyes of frosted emerald cast upon the setting sun, unmoving, unblinking- untainted in mind or body by the sight that exists before him- for he cannot perceive beauty any more then he can perceive time, trapped within his own vile world of endless torment until the very bridge of his sanity is given to creak and groan beneath the weight of his impending madness. He is no more than a shell, he does not exist, not truly- for he is nothing but hunger and desire, instinct and flesh. He does not feel- he cannot and as such he merely stands, oblivious to the fading warmth and sinking light that he does not see and does not feel, what thoughts exist within his mind cannot be said as he merely stares with blankness ahead, waiting for the light to fade and for the night to coax him softly into its embrace.

The very image of King atop his kingdom- though it has always been so. For he has forever ruled the night and now he has defended it, just as his imprint has with yet another defeat of Jaidah, assuring their leadership further, solidifying within the mind of the hellish creature that he and She alone are superior in their right to lead. They are his possessions, all of them, each wolf whom calls this land home. His and his alone- and he will keep them for always.